From the Shadows
by eeinsilencejudge
Summary: He had felt the usually warm air turn to ice. When Midorima had gained enough strength to open his eyes the sight had been horrendous. Face cloud in darkness he could only see the widening smile of white teeth dripping in something that could not have been saliva. Being held above him was a pair of scissors and before he could even react...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: /Hello Everyone~ Eein SilenceJudge here! This isn't my first fanfic, but it is the first one in a long time and I'm not even sure I want to publish it. I hope it appeals to some people however. The rating is subject to change as time goes on. The main pairing is TakaoxMidorima because they're precious babies and there are side pairings that will pop up throughout this little thing. If I'm not getting much of a response, I'll probably stop posting chapters but even if there's a few people that seem to enjoy it, I can continue on. Here's the prologue and I hope you enjoy~ (the chapters will be longer, I hope, but I didn't feel the need to expand yet on the prologue)_

The air is too cold for him to function. His breath comes in short puffs of air, visible to him through the one eye that is actually working. His glasses are broken beyond repair and the sardonic voice inside of him can sense he won't even need them by the time this is over. The glass fragments lay around him. Somewhere a vase broke. That was the stinging in his arm and head. The pain in his right eye is excruciating but somehow it feels far away. His body trembles. There is blood pooled around him. It's gotten beneath his clothes, making the fabric cling to his back. How is he alive?

Shintaro Midorima cannot remember how he came to be there, laying on the wooden floor of his hall. Where were his parents? They were...they...there had been a note. It was their anniversary so they had gone out to eat dinner leaving him to his own devices. What did he do when he had gotten home? He had...he had..had prepared his own dinner. He remembered doing homework, bits and pieces of equations coming to mind as his sluggish mind began to think. What then? Oh. The lights were off. It was like blinking and things were different. This had caused disorientation. His glasses were askew on his face and he had to sit up from a slumped position he had not been in before. Had he fallen asleep? He was unable to remember. Had the light bulb burst? Had he fallen asleep (falling asleep was the most logical answer to how this came to be).

He remembered his fingers touching the light switch when it hit him. Something hit him hard enough to make him tumble to the ground. His responses weren't quick but they were enough to keep him from touching the ground the first time. He was hit again from a different angle and crashed into the wall. The stand holding a vase trembled and he blacked out. Something was entering his ears, surrounded by foggy in-coherency. He had felt the usually warm air turn to ice. When Midorima had gained enough strength to open his eyes the sight had been horrendous. Face cloud in darkness he could only see the widening smile of white teeth dripping in something that could not have been saliva. Being held above him was a pair of scissors and before he could even react, the blade was being embedded in his right eye. He remembered, little more than writhing around in agony before passing out. When he came to, the bleeding male was already alone. Contemplative silence stretched for hours.

Help. Me.

He woke up to the cliched white light of a too bright hospital room. There are three people in the room with him, the doctor, his mother and his father. He can hear them and yet the words fly over his head. He feels languid. He must have been given a sedative to dull the pain he was in. No doubt along with the wound to the eye, he had sustained other injuries as well. There was too much blood for that to not be the case. He opens his mouth to speak but find that no words are forthcoming. After short moments, he feels like a fish and it's thoroughly exhausting. He's gained someone's attention however. His mother turns towards him.

"H-honey, you're awake." she's a small fragile woman, kindhearted and always worried over one thing or another. She is not his real mother. His mother died in an..an accident. This woman is also his mother however. He loves her the same. She's by his side in an instant, placing her small hands on his forehead. Her lips are soon to follow and he feels a bit of warmth from her. Her concern for him is touching and he closes his eye. One eye. The other, if it's still there, is bandaged. This realization takes what little energy he had left after his attempts to speak and he sinks into the bed.

The footsteps of someone else is clear in his ears, louder than ever before. It must be his loss of vision. Midorima can tell his body is attempting to make up for the handicap. He feels helpless for the first time in his life. "Shintaro Midorima." it's the doctor speaking. He opens his eye in an attempt to become attentive. He needs to listen to what the doctor wants to tell him. "You're right eye has been gauged out and you sustained several stab wounds, none of which are life threatening. You have been asleep for the past four days, long enough for your body to stabilize and the blood you lost to be regained. I have discussed with your parents the option of having eye surgery-"

"I don't want it."

The room quieted as the doctor ceased speaking, cut off by the adamant voice of his patience. It was surprising. The mother looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment and the father had an uncomfortable expression painted across his features. Shintaro looked thoroughly exhausted and he wondered where the energy to vehemently protest a suggestion had come from. Clearing his throat he continued on. "We're going to hold you until we have figured out what you wish to do about your current situation. Please do not make a hasty decision. A nurse will be on call for the duration of your stay. Press the button if you are feeling uncomfortable or cannot sleep." with that, the middle aged man strolled out of the room, leaving the tense atmosphere.

"H-honey.." his mother was the first to speak. He could hear the tears in her voice alone and when he looked at her he was not surprised to see her crying. Lethargically he lifted an arm and managed to place a hand atop her head, offering some form of comfort. "W-why don't you want the surgery?" she burst into heavy sobs then, bowing her head as she cried. He watched his father come to her side and sit there, arms wrapped around her small shoulders. Midorima did not have a bad relationship with his father. It was rather ambiguous. Rarely did he ask the man for anything and rarely did the man interfere with anything. It was an unspoken agreement. Midorima was a quiet child by nature and he did well academically. If he kept his grades in line then he could do as he wished.

"Are you sure about this? If not a surgery that will allow you to see again then it will have to be a prosthetic."

How to answer. Was he sure? No. He could hardly discern where his opposition had come from. He was too tired to think about anything. "School?" he asked instead, feeling himself begin to drift. His head was swimming.

"We..we can get your classwork if that's what you want." there was hesitation there. Midorima's father watched his son drift off into sleep without answering again. The crying of his wife was enough to make him hesitant all its own. Was he doing the best for his child? He loved his son, his only child. There was nothing he wouldn't give or do for him. Midorima asked for little. He had an allowance that came with his straight A's. He was top of his class and diligent. Who was he to deny him what he wanted..for his own good or not.

"Y...es.." he managed to get out before the medication did its work and dragged him back down to sleep.

When he awoke again, a full day had passed. He was feeling exceptionally better, a surprise in itself. They had stitched him up while he was sedated, said the wound itself would be healed in a couple of wees. He would be held in the hospital for a while longer. The doctor had placed his homework in the chair beside his bed and told him to not overexert himself. He was left alone for the remainder of the day.

It was like clockwork, the way he went through problem after problem. He was caught up on assignments by the time he stopped for bed. He had worked more than six hours and words, numbers, everything was beginning to blend together. A thought fluttered through his brain, a memory he had managed to escape as he busied himself. It sent shivers down his spine.

He recalled the moment of fear he felt, lying on the cold wood of his home. Like now, in the hospital room all alone, it was quiet. There was no sound and he had no hope left to give. He had been loosing blood and growing cold. Midorima drew the thin blanket of his around him, laying in bed. He tried to fill his thoughts with other things. Deftly, he reached out and grasped the handle of his backpack. He pulled it towards him and rustled through the confines. It was there somewhere. An iPod. Pulling it out with shaking hands, Midorima placed his ear-buds in and turned on the device, shuffling through music until he found something worth listening to. He stared ahead. The nurse would come eventually, to turn the lights out, but for now it was bright. There was no doubt though, that he would be able to sleep like this.

Green eyes continued staring ahead, even when vision blurred and it seemed like the light flickered for a moment. But the light didn't flicker, he told himself. There wasn't something building itself in the darkness. He didn't glance away still. A sinister smile. Normality. The lights didn't flicker and he closed his eyes. Already, he had cycled through three songs without actually hearing them. He was tired. He needed to sleep.

Weeks passed. It felt like he was in a nuthouse. All he could do was stare ahead, do work and stay ahead. The lights were flickering, not flickering. Nurses asked if he was alright. Doctor's asked if he was sure. Midorima had decided that it was in his best interest to simply get a replacement eye instead of going in for surgery. It was cheaper. It was easier. If it wasn't his real eye he didn't want it. His parent's had reluctantly agreed—that woman putting up a fuss that was larger than any child's tantrum.

He would be released in another day.

Midorima glanced to the side. The lights were off and he was having trouble sleeping, having slept too much during his recovery time as is. The shadow that had built itself up was still here, staring at him. He stared back at it most of the time. It didn't really move, perhaps shifted from side to side every so often but never actually moved towards him, at least not yet. He wouldn't be surprised if it sudden;t grew closer when he closed his eyes. It was smiling at him in an eerie manner he couldn't stand.

Turning his head away after a half and hour, he thought about the next day. He wouldn't be going to school. He was going to see his ocularist to get his eye put in. It was going to be a tiring day and he needed to sleep but, he couldn't get his mind to rest. There was no real worry about the procedure. It was supposed to be relatively painless, just strange. It wasn't everyday someone allows their eye socket to be fiddled with. No. He had no desire to go home. How was he supposed to sleep in that place now that he had been attacked? What if that thing lingered? His parents had assured him that he was safe, that they had installed a safety system and yet...his worries remained. There was a lock on his door now but...

Shaking morbid thoughts away, Midorima closed his eyes and allowed himself to—painfully slow—drift off into sleep.

His ocularist assured Midorima, as he sat before the man, that the process while extensive would be painless. The doctor was a kind man, older in years and experienced in his profession. He owned the medical practice in which he worked. His parents had spared no expenses. His eye, while not able to see, would act and appear like a real eye. He would only have singular vision, which was fine. He had grown used to his impaired vision in the hospital.

His expression was rather mute through the process itself. He didn't so much as grimace when a tiny "plunder" was placed inside of his eye, the doctor feeding plastic like material through the plunger. He was supposed to let it harden and then the doctor would remove it, a process that only took a matter of minutes. He listened to a song for the duration of the time, a frown firmly placed on his lips. It's removed in five minutes and made into a wax impression of the cavity in his eye before being placed back inside of him.

"How does it feel?" The doctor, Nishimura, asked. He's waiting patiently for an answer.

After some time, Midorima speaks up, "There is pressure on the left side..." it's taken out and smoothed before reinserted. The doctor asks again. "Fine...it feels fine." this time he could hardly feel anything to be honest. Numb. He blinks upon request. The wax is taken out, remolded, put back in. He blinks. It's taken out and put back in. Blinks. The ocularist seems satisfied this time. Midorima doesn't pay attention when the man is drilling. He almost doesn't hear him when he is asked to sit elsewhere so the ocularist can paint the "eyeball". He tries his best not to blink so the man can work quickly. It's interesting to see, to watch. Thin little pieces or red fabric are the veins of his eye and when it's all said and done, the finished product is like his actual eye.

The final fitting goes relatively smoothly and when Midorima looks at his reflection, he can't muster enough energy to feel anything. He's seeing that shadow again, the one that followed him from the hospital like he thought it would. It can't move like his normal eye. It's just a cover up for the problem. The doctor says he'll get used to it and when he goes to meet his parents again, his mother bursts into tears and his father has nothing to say.

The ride home is quiet.

When night falls, he lays in bed, door locked and eye staring at the ceiling. He's not expected to go to school tomorrow if he doesn't feel up to it. He doesn't. All of his work is done, save for the last few days. Midorima doesn't care right now. He's exhausted. His mind continuously asks, "Why didn't you die?" it isn't as if he can answer the question. Why doesn't a murder kill the victim?

The shadow beside his bed is laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N: I'm sorry for my lengthy absence as well as the shortness of the chapter. I felt a little bad because I've been working so slowly and have had much to do before starting my next school year. I do hope those who have decided to so graciously follow my story enjoy what I've written here. Thank you! Happy reading~~)

Midorima had not prepared himself for returning to school after a month. Everything had seemed as if it had gone by at a snail's pace. His sleeping patterns were upside down and his teachers had been notified of his current condition. His parents had grown concerned with the increasingly silent way he was dealing with the entire ordeal. They asked if he wanted more time. Had he cried? Did he need to speak with a professional? Maybe he was traumatized. He had brushed off their concerns. This was fine. He was fine. There wasn't any real need for this any longer. He wanted something to do so it didn't _feel _as if he were losing his mind (the shadow came and went and he didn't know whether or not that was a good sign). School had always kept him busy before. He was counting on it to do the same thing now. He needed something to do. He felt better when he was busy.

Walking into the classroom that morning had been somewhat of a scare. People talked. His classmates knew about the incident and it became much more apparent when people fell silent at his presence. His straight face remained so and as he weaved his way to his desk, Midorima ignored the stares, ignored hushed whispers. He made it a point to look only ahead, never making contact with anyone for too long. Never before had he felt uncomfortable in silence not his own. What were they thinking? Was there pity? He had, of course, received their flowers and get well cards that he had received while he had been in the hospital. Many were still alive and settled around the house. Placing his lucky item on his desk, a small frog statuette, he got out his notebooks as well. His faith in horoscopes, despite the incident, had remained unshaken.

In a matter of long moments, everything resumed as if someone had pushed play after pausing a movie. He looked up when a pair of girls crowded his desk along with a few of his male classmates. He didn't say anything, merely looked up for a moment before glancing away. It seemed to be all anyone needed.

"Shin-chan are you okay?" one of the girls exclaimed. She was loud and he remembered her name as Asahina. She was the class representative, a mother hen of sorts. It didn't surprise him that she was asking about his condition. He wondered how many students knew about him. "A-are you okay to be here today? You know if you're feeling sick at any time you're allowed to go to the nurse's office!"

Midorima nods his head slowly. "I am fine." he pushed up his spectacles, saying nothing else on the matter. There was no desire to converse about his "condition". He was at school. He was going to go through his day. He was _fine_. It looked like Asahina was going to say more but people interrupted her.

What was it like?

How did he survive?

Had he been afraid?

Did they ever catch the guy that did it?

He didn't appreciate the barrage of questions but it was natural wasn't it? He recognized that much. He didn't offer any answers however and after a while Asahina managed to push them all away, yelling that they shouldn't ask so many traumatic questions. She apologized on their behalf before taking her own seat. With breathing room, Midorima remained staring ahead. His eye glanced down.

Getting back into the school day had been just a tad difficult for Midorima, who found himself falling asleep during some part of the lectures. He could answers questions as well as he had always been able to but with the little sleep he had accumulated over the last few days, over the last month, he found it hard to keep his eyes open. His eyes would close before he knew it and he would barely manage to keep his head from dropping.

Forcing himself awake the sixth time that morning, Midorima set his pencil down. His mind wasn't going to focus. He knew the material. He wasn't going to suffer. Briefly bowing his head to take a breath, the startle came from when he was lifting his head. Outwardly, he made no sound, but the beating of his heart sped up. The shadow was there. The light flickered. He ignored it.

For long moments it seemed the entity was merely going to stay where it was beside the teacher, smiling in the eerie manner it was accustomed to. If that were the case, he could handle that just fine. He returned his attention to the teacher but something cold refocused his attention minutes later. A chill ran up his spine as if the temperature had dropped around him but it was his imagination, Midorima told himself. It was his imagination. Instead of glancing around, the male dropped his head and let out a quiet breath. Picking up his pencil he attempted to busy himself with taking notes. Classes cycled in and out.

He copied equations down from the board, never allowing his one eyed gaze to stray from the board too long. While students worked at the board, called by the teacher, he bowed his head and buried himself in his notebook. He felt another chill and instead of cooling down with it, his body burned warmer, his heart beating faster. He ignored it.

There was something close.

Slowly, he peered up, his eyes raising. Everything told him not to look elsewhere. The feeling was not diminishing with time. It was drawing stronger, drawing him to do what he didn't want to. To give in now was easier than giving in later. He hadn't been expected to be so unprepared. What little color had gathered in his face drained away. Black sludge, that was what the shadow was made of. It was grotesque, the faint imprint of faces translucent on its surface. They were sorrowful in expression, trapped. Metal glinted at its side and he could see the scissors in its hands. A more morbid part of his mind wondered if it were the same scissors from _that_ night. The more terrified piece of him had lost breath and felt like it was suffocating as his only good eye followed the raising of the arm attached to the scissors.

Midorima flew out of his seat upon reflex, hands wrapped around his throat as if air would come easier that way. The teacher turned his attention towards his student and Midorima wondered if he looked terrified, possibly crazy, as he backed away from his seat, tripping over his own unsteady feet. The balance and grace he normally held was gone now and he would probably be void of them for a long time.

"Midorima-kun!"

"N-nurse.." he managed to croak out as he felt few people crowding around him. His eyes never strayed from the shadow that seemed to be moving closer, its mouth open in a sinister smile. Someone tugged him up, a hand on the small of his back and the other on his arm. He was forcefully removed from the classroom.

"I'll make sure he gets there safe and sound!"

The door closed and what spell Midorima had seemed to be under broke. He pushed himself away from the person beside him and turned at the same time, his stoic expression back on his features. He pushed his glasses up with a single finger and glowered. He did not need help and he would deny that he needed help to begin with. A cynical place in his mind wondered what would have happened had he remained transfixed there like a weakling.

"Whoa, hey. I'm not your enemy here!" the exclamation was loud between the two of them, though not loud enough to carry. The male was black haired and had straight black, short, with a few strands hanging in front of his face, falling in front of his silvery blue eyes. They were strangely colored eyes but they drew him in curiously, sharp as they were. He had…never seen this person before in his life.

"...you're in my class?"

"...seriously? That's the first thing you have to say?" the male gave an exasperated sigh. There was no surprise, however, within the tone of his voice that says he had expected otherwise. "I'm Kazunari Takao." He greeted, offering a hand. When it wasn't accepted after a ten second pause—yes, ten whole seconds because he had counted them!—he retracted his hand. "Anyway, let's get you to the nurse's office. I have some stuff to ask you."

Midorima arched a brow. " 'Stuff?' As far as I know, I have nothing to say you. I didn't know you before this moment and I intend to keep it that way." Because friends were something he didn't need. In this place he knew what children his age, children who weren't as studious as he, said and did to each other. He had no need for that. He had no need for people who would eventually come to give him up.

Takao arched a brow. "If I wanted to tell you what it was I would tell you right here in the open, now wouldn't I? Come on. Already out of class and I doubt you want to go back inside." Takao paused for effect and turned away. "There's something you're running from as well, right? What better place to hide than the nurses office?" and with those final words he walked off, whistling.

The green haired male didn't know if Takao was doing this because he knew that he would follow or because he didn't want to return to class, Midorima couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance as he followed. He was going to follow. He knew not how the other had figured it out but no, he did not want to return to class. That shadow lingered. With a resigned expression hidden behind his spectacles he followed after his classmate.

The nurse wasn't in the office when they arrived and Midorima briefly recalled that she came and went for the most part but was there when students predominantly needed her assistance. She was an American woman with a loud mouth and most students, afraid of her temper, attempted to steer clear of the office all together. Takao, who had kindly held the door open for Midorima shut it moments after the male was inside. The black haired male moved on to lean against the door as if blocking the way should his classmate decide he desired to leave.

The silence between the two of them lasted quite a while and he commended Takao on lasting as long as he did. When faced with Midorima's silence, people opted to remove themselves from his presence. With an expression that screamed discomfort, he clicked his tongue and spoke, "So….that thing you fled from…I assume you have no idea what it is but it is standard protocol for me to ask if you know what it is."

"What relevance—"

"Will you please answer the question?"

Cut off, Midorima furrowed his brows. The easy air around Takao had mixed into something else reminiscent of seriousness as he gazed at him with eyes that seemed to see everything. Taking a disgruntled breath, he answered, "I do not know what it is."

"As I thought." He clicked his tongue again and there seemed to be a hint of relaxation or relief in his tone. "That thing that was after you today is what we call a negative entity. It is an otherworldly creature that is made of the negative emotion and manifested due to its creators will. I don't know where it came from or why it's targeting you specifically but…" he trailed off, his brows furrowing in frustration. It was so frustrating. He theorized that Midorima's near murder and the entity were entwined with one another but there was no real way of knowing unless he exposed the other male to everything and it was still being decided on as a matter.

"A negative entity." Midorima mimicked quietly. It was, of course, nothing he had ever heard of or seen before. It sounded much too farfetched. He would have said the same about becoming the victim of an assault just a month ago. That wasn't the issue alone. Midorima could believe in fortune and fate but could he believe in the supernatural? The proof was before his very eyes, so to speak.

Takao watched the expressions cross over his classmates face. There weren't many but it was telling. Unlike what he had expected the male seemed somewhat unshaken and willing to believe in what he was being told. Before he could speak, he was beat to the punch.

"What does a negative entity, as you called it, want with me?"

"I don't know."

"Why do you know of it to begin with?"

Takao pulled his gray gaze away from Midorima and briefly looked towards the window before he pulled himself away from the door. He closed the distance between himself and the other and, grabbing his hand, forced the both of them to take a seat. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about…" he was met with silence. "Things like this aren't uncommon knowledge for someone in my trade. Onmyouji have been tasked with protecting others from supernatural evils. There are more of us left in the dying art than what many people would believe."

"Onmyouji." The green haired male repeated, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose as he felt them shift. There was a hint of disbelief in his tone but nothing more than that. Onmyouji traditions died along with history.

"I know it might sound like a lie in this day and age but I promise its—"

Midorima who had been listening patiently up until this point, glanced towards the clock and stood on his feet. It was about time for that class to be finished with and the next to begin. "I'm going back to class." He offered up as explanation. In reality it was an excuse. He was growing tired of hearing the explanation, growing tired as he had been during the lessons. His mind could comprehend what was being said to him but he didn't have the strength to make a decision. Not yet. He wanted to listen and at the same time the rational part of his brain was against the idea entirely. His stomach twisted. Without looking back or speaking another word, he left.

"You should have known it was too easy." Takao berated himself as he mused up his own hair in frustration. He corrected himself moments later and quickly followed after the other. If he was going back to class then it meant that he had to return as well.

The remainder of the school day was filled with exhaustion and by the time it was over, Midorima found himself laying in the nurse's office. He had slept through his two last classes of the day. His teacher had seen him struggling a little after lunch and promptly sent him off with an understanding expression. Where he would normally struggle against authority when it concerned his studies, Midorima felt it best to surrender and had accordingly gathered his things and left.

As he felt himself awaken, the green haired male looked towards the window. It was late. The sun was beginning to set and while he could still see some clubs finishing up their practice outside. He felt sluggish, getting out of bed. The doctors had continued to tell him that he should take it easy and his strength would return slowly but he shouldn't feel so sluggish now. Reaching out to put on his glasses, he sighed. Vision out of one eye…it was…still disconcerting. Limited. Grabbing his things he left the nurses office and headed down the hall and towards the staircase.

As he walked straight and out of the front door, Midorima thought he saw something out of the corner of his eyes and stopped to look. There was nothing there and briefly he wondered if he had been expecting anything to begin with. Turning his head, he continued on his way. He wanted to get home before the sun set completely. He barely had the strength to walk a decent pace. If night fell his nerves would set themselves on edge. He had no doubt that with it, the negative entity would return.

The walk took longer than it would have had he been himself from a month ago. His feet dragged the closer he got to home, his vision blurring just a bit. It made him afraid. It scared him. He was already without half of his vision and when his remaining sight, even for a moment, left him, his heart jumped as if it would not return. The sun had set before he reached his home yet the night brought him in safely. Passing the threshold of the doorway and closing it behind him, Midorima removed his shoes, turned and locked the door before heading into the living room where his mother was more than likely sitting.

"Honey you're home!" she greeted, standing on her feet.

Midorima moved closer to accept the warmth of her hug and the gentle kiss to the temple she bequeathed him with. As she inquired how school went he simply told her that what he had managed to go through was fine but he had been sent to the nurses' office to sleep where he slept through his last two classes. Her concern was touching but he assured her that he would be fine to continue like this. He was made to promise that if it continued then he would consider staying home for a while longer.

"Dinner is in the kitchen if you'd like to eat, honey. Your father isn't home from work yet but he'll understand."

Midorima would have insisted he wait to eat with them if he hadn't felt so tired after walking. There was still homework he had to get through and at this moment, he felt it would take him all night to get through it. He sat at the table with his meal and homework laid out before him. He went through sections until they blurred together, his appetite forgotten and eventually diminishing. He let out a sigh as he felt himself doze and awaken for the third time. He didn't have the energy to continue resisting sleep and by the time he finished his math, his head dropped onto the table.


End file.
